I Didn't Have To Leave You
by Miss Barrowmaniac
Summary: Luna has been in love with Ginny since they first met, but the redhead never had eyes for her. WARNING: FEMSLASH! It means a romantic/sexual relationship between two female characters, i.e. a lesbian relationship. Don't like it, don't read it!


**Title: **I didn't have to leave you

**Author: **Miss Barrowmaniac

**Pairing: **Luna Lovegood/ Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger /Ginny Weasley and mentions to Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger and Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley.

**Rating: **T, as it's femslash, to be safe. I don't believe there's any swearing, and there's only _mentions_ of sex, so hopefully that's high enough.

**Summary:** Luna has been in love with Ginny since they first met, but the redhead never had eyes for her.

**Disclaimers:** If there's anything here that you recognize, it's not mine. As we all know, Harry Potter and co. belong to Ms. JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and whoever else holds copyrights over the trademark. After all, plenty of relationships would be different if it _did_ belong to me - but then again, the story wouldn't be nearly as good, so let's leave it at that. The song (which also happens to be the title) is also not mine. It's sung by Jo Dee Messina, and I believe she composed it as well, but I couldn't find out for sure. Either way, it's not mine, I don't have permission to use it, but I'm not making anything out of it either. So please don't sue me!

**Warnings: **FEMSLASH! Means a romantic/sexual relationship between two female characters, i.e. a lesbian relationship. If this subject makes you uncomfortable in any way, please click the back button on the top of your browser, or close the window/tab. Nobody is forcing you to read it. Also, I suppose it's a bit angsty... I figured I might give the heads-up just in case.

**Author's note:** This is my first femslash, so please read and review! Let me know what works and what doesn't, or even if it's plain garbage. I'm sure you can spare a couple of minutes to make an author happy!

* * *

**I didn't have to leave you**

* * *

_Remember me_

_The one who picked up all the pieces, me_

_The one who's love for you increases every day_

_And it won't go away like she did_

* * *

We met on that first day at the Hogwarts Express, do you remember? The twins were joking around the train, and your brother Ron never showed up. You were scared to be alone, your easily identifiable red hair already causing you to be bullied. I sat beside you on the cabin you shared with another kid, and we didn't properly speak. You thought I was too eccentric, but at least I made an easier target than you. So you let me stay.

We were sorted into different houses, and only met when we shared classes. As the year went by, I witnessed you become more and more isolated from your fellow Gryffindors, and constantly get into detentions for sleeping in class. You were a distraction from all the bullying I was suffering, and I began worrying about you.

I knew immediately it was you the message in blood referred to. I was so relieved when you were found alive.

After Harry saved you, your schoolgirl crush on him grew, but you quickly realized you didn't have a chance with him. I would know, I was the only one to remain by your side after what happened in our first year. Older students even stopped picking on me so much because I was always around you, and they feared you like you had some contagious disease.

The only other girl to still talk to you after that was _her_. That's when you began falling for her, wasn't it? _The brightest witch of her age_. Only because she studied so much. Certainly you and I could do just as well, if either of us could stand being in that library for longer than five minutes.

It was just the occasional comment, at first. A complaint about some nasty comment Malfoy made about her, or a mention to her latest achievement in class. I always listened to you talk for hours, because I adore the sound of your voice.

Hermione changed a lot, physically, from her second to her third year. Of course you noticed, and told me all about it, over and over again. And how sometimes she'd look at you for just a little too long, or touch your arm when it wasn't really necessary. I began feeling jealous, and at last understood why: I was irrevocably in love with you.

And every time, you looked right through me.

Summer vacations between our second and third years, things began to change. She spent part of the holiday at the Burrow, went to the Quidditch game with you, shared a tent with you. Kissed you. You couldn't wait to tell me every last detail about it, when classes started again. You hadn't done more than share a few stolen kisses when nobody was looking, and have brief conversations in the few moments the other two boys weren't around, but you were certain it was the beginning of the relationship you so long dreamed of.

Then Krum appeared, and I wiped your tears more times than would've been healthy for someone in my position to. But if friendship was all you were willing to give me, I'd gladly take it.

You were forced to spend most of the next summer around her, at Grimmauld Place, and she didn't look at you twice. The letters you smuggled me were smudged by tears, and it broke my heart to witness how much you were hurting.

I promised myself that if you ever gave me a chance, I'd never cause you that pain.

* * *

_Remember her_

_The one who left your heart abandoned, her_

_Well she's back again and I can't stand it, it hurts_

_'Cause with her tears all glistening_

_She's got you listening to her promises_

_Well, remember this_

* * *

That year, you began dating boys, in a futile attempt to make her jealous. I wanted to kill every boy who dared touch your lips, run their hands down your body or whisper nothings in your ear. Sometimes I wanted to kill you too, for putting yourself through that, when I was right beside you.

So I put all my efforts into believing my fantasies, the stories my mom had once told me, and represented the only thing that was still safe in my life. It resulted in an increase of jokes and pranks aimed at me, but somehow it seemed to help. I desperately wanted to be that child again, the one who was once taken away by Peter Pan and lived a thousand adventures, to whom the pain of love was unknown.

Peter Pan has always been my favorite by far. With all the Beetle, the Bard tales, all the muggle tales about princesses and fighting dragons, that one had always been the one I liked the most. You didn't know it, of course. But I kept mentioning it, and eventually you decided to ask about it. You thought it was foolish, a kid that doesn't wish to grow up.

Have you never wondered how I could grow up and still believe that wrackspurts make one's brain go fuzzy, or that there were living, breathing crumple-horned snorkacks in Sweden? You know my dad, so I suppose it wasn't all too hard to believe it, but much like me, it was the way we found to deal with mom's death. He was a very different person before she passed. But I was just a child, and he didn't want magic to leave my life because of that tragedy. So he started pretending it was all real. At some point, he started believing it too.

I loved and hated the D.A. It was great to see you so often - we didn't get a lot of time together anymore, with you so busy with school and boys. But you always spent the whole time watching _her_. She was usually beside Harry, and you let them think he was the one you were watching. But I knew the truth. Because I spent my time watching _you_.

As the war recommenced, I got so scared for you. If only you weren't so impulsive, if only I knew you'd choose to stay safe rather than fight. But I knew that person wasn't you, and I loved you for that. Still, it broke my heart every time you got detention with the Carrows, and I knew exactly what they were doing to you.

I tried not to think about you much during the time I spent locked in the Malfoy dungeon, afraid of where my imagination might take me. And it wasn't as hard as I expected it, as Mr. Ollivander, when he wasn't too weak to talk, had a lot of fascinating ideas. And Griphook was very grumpy all the time, but I thought he was funny. Then Harry and Ron came to rescue us, and I couldn't help respecting Hermione when I heard her screams as she was tortured, and the few times we talked at Bill and Fleur's.

Truth be told, the time between that and the Battle of Hogwarts isn't much more than a blur to me. I was just glad you'd made it safely through it all, even if your brother Fred didn't.

And my torment started again.

* * *

_I didn't have to leave you to love you_

_I didn't have to lose you first to want you more than ever_

_I didn't have to leave you to love you_

_I didn't have to see if I could tear your world apart_

_And still win back your heart_

_No, I didn't have to leave you to love you_

_I loved you from the start_

* * *

During our fifth year, you started dating Harry, to try and get to her. Sometimes I could see, for no longer than a fraction of a second, jealousy in her eyes. But she said nothing, to your disappointment. And poor Harry really fell for you, and even tried to protect you by breaking up with you. It was easy to tell you were relieved not to have to act anymore, but I felt sorry for him. Though not as much as for myself. At least he got to be with you.

Then you found out Hermione had started dating your brother, and you went back to Harry's arms, the two of you playing some sick game with no care to the boys falling victim to your actions, or to me, being forced to bear witness to it all via your frequent letters.

You wasted no time to find a way to break up with Harry when she did with your brother, and the two of you began meeting at night, after she left work and Quidditch practice with the Holy Harpies finished. At first, you just pretended to be helping each other through the break-ups - I would know, I was there. You thought it'd be less suspicious that way, didn't you? But I could see how you looked at each other, and it was obvious I was playing third wheel. So I began coming up with excuses not to appear anymore, and in no time you stopped inviting me.

You began a secret relationship with her - secret because she thought it would be bad for her career, and persuaded you it would hurt the boys too much to tell anyone - and you told me every last detail of it. You don't know how many times I wanted to just throw those letters in the fire, but it was your delicate handwriting on the parchment, and I couldn't do it.

By then, I'd started seeing an old acquaintance, to try and get my mind off you. I was certain it was working - until that letter, so smudged by your tears it was hard to make out the words, arrived, and without a second thought I traded my date for a visit to you.

You cried on my lap for hours that day, until you were so exhausted you fell asleep. I stayed up all night playing with your hair, making sure I absorbed every last detail of that scene: your soft smell that had my heart leaping in my chest with joy, the silkiness of the red locks running through my fingers, the deliciously comfortable weight of your head on my legs.

I asked you what happened, the next morning, even though I already knew whose fault it was. Hermione had shown up to break up with you and announce her engagement to your brother. It seemed they'd been talking for a few weeks, and decided to give each other another try because, as she put it, they "couldn't live without each other".

* * *

_You know me_

_I only want what's best for you and I'd leave_

_If you really want me to_

_But if I say that I don't wanna stay, it'd be a lie_

* * *

Your mother was thrilled with the news, and began planning the party at once, insisting you help her every step of the way. And she kept telling you Harry deserved another chance as well, that you made such a beautiful couple, and she couldn't wait to see you in the white robes she wore at her own wedding, walking down the aisle and, a few years later, providing her with a multitude of grandchildren.

You always came crying to me after you visited her - and as it's Mrs. Weasley we're talking about, it meant at least twice a week -, which cause an angry fit on my boyfriend and he left me. It didn't bother me as it should've, because by then I knew I'd always put you before anyone else.

We began talking a lot again, and I could always make you laugh with my silly ideas. One night, after we had a bit too much to drink, you kissed me. It only lasted a brief moment, and then you got up saying you had to leave. Next time we met, you were blushing hard and apologizing frenetically, which wiped away any thought I had of finally telling you how I felt. We pretended nothing happened, but I'm sure you noticed my eyes wandering to your lips when you talked, even more than before.

Then the wedding day came, and I suppose Hermione thought it would help her make amends with you to ask you to be her bridesmaid. Everybody thought you were crying because you were happy. I knew it was from a broken heart.

Like everyone whose judgment is impaired by negative feelings, you turned to the excessive amount of alcohol present at the party, and was drunk within the hour. And to my surprise, you walked up to the table where I was chatting with some old schoolmates of ours, and sat on my lap before you started kissing me furiously. You figured that if you couldn't make her jealous by being with boys, maybe you would being with girls.

I was too appalled to stop you, and despite all the circumstances, it was a dream come true for me, and I couldn't push you away. Within minutes, the room had silenced, and virtually every pair of eyes was turned our way. You complained they were staring, and asked what was so interesting about you making out with your girlfriend.

It sounded better than music to my ears, being called your girlfriend.

You dragged me out of there and we spent the only night we'd ever spend together. When morning came and you were sober again, you apologized for your behavior. Said you didn't mean to hurt me, which was more than you'd ever said about anybody else you used. And yet, at that moment, I'd willingly trade everything just for another night with you. That's when I decided to come clean. Tell you I was in love with you and wanted to be with you. You said you were flattered, and loved me as well, but not _in that way_.

My bedroom walls would beg to differ.

You kissed my lips sweetly one last time before getting up and getting dressed, as I strained my mind to the maximum to memorized every last freckle on your beautiful body. After you left that day, we didn't talk again for nearly a month. I wanted desperately to reach out to you, but what could I possibly say? I judged your silence as consequence of the discomfort created by my confession, and countless times I battered myself over it, but it didn't bring you back.

I thought about taking a long trip somewhere far away to clear my head, to give you room to deal with everything that'd happened. But I couldn't. What if you tried to contact me and I wasn't there? I'd never forgive myself. So I stayed put. Every time I entered my bedroom, memories of that night flooded my mind and I lost count of how many nights I cried myself to sleep.

But I promised myself I'd be there for you, whenever you were ready.

* * *

_You know her_

_And she knows how to get to you, oh the nerve_

_She's offering her bed to you, and what's worse_

_Is that she knows you started over_

_But she still insists you owe her one more try_

_Well, I know_

* * *

When you contacted me again, it was through owl, and you invited me to have lunch with you. I was desperate to see you, and readily agreed. You were looking stunning in your tight jeans and green blouse, though I couldn't help thinking of Harry's eyes when I say that color. It was the first sign. We sat and ordered, and you asked me how I was doing, what I'd been up to. I tried to sound cheerful, even though I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs how lonely life was without you.

Then I returned the question, and it didn't take very long for me to regret it. You told me you were dating Harry again. That you were honestly happy together now, and promised me you weren't using him to get to Hermione anymore. That it had nothing to do with the fact that he was her best friend. That you were over her now.

I could see the lie in your eyes, but nodded and pretended to agree. We talked some more while we ate, but nothing penetrated my brain after that. We began meeting every week, always somewhere very public, as if you were afraid of being alone with me. Though I could tell you weren't completely over Hermione, I also say you were, after all, happy with Harry, especially in the few times he joined us. It wasn't the furious, blinding passion you had for her, but you loved him nonetheless. And I'd always liked him, so I couldn't help feeling happy for you.

And perhaps it was time for me to move on too, and perhaps find someone nice, who I could never love as much as I love you, but with whom I could build a life.

A year after you got together, more or less, you announced your engagement and scheduled the wedding for the following spring. Things seemed to be working out for you: you were in a relationship with someone you loved, your career was developing very well, you'd finally found a comfortable place in your friendship with Hermione.

On the night before your wedding, she organized a bachelorette party for you, and invited some of us girls to a bar where we all got drunk, played games and watched the strippers she'd hired perform. It was about half past two when people started leaving, and she offered to take you home, as you could barely take two steps in the same direction. I offered to help, but she said she could handle it. I should've known better and insisted.

You invited me to be your bridesmaid along with her, and I arrived early at the Burrow the next morning. I'm sure we were all thankful Hermione remembered to give us all a dose of potion for hangovers the night before, or our heads would be pounding so hard they'd have to cancel the wedding.

You were crying in your room and refused to talk to anyone.

She'd taken you home alright. And put you in bed, and joined you. You panicked when you woke up naked beside her, and she only smiled and wished you a happy wedding day before leaving.

We talked for over an hour. You felt guilty for betraying both Harry and Ron, but decided to go on with the wedding anyway.

It was a beautiful ceremony.

Only I among the guest knew your tears weren't only of joy.

* * *

_I didn't have to leave you to love you_

_I didn't have to lose you first to love you more than ever_

_I didn't have to leave you to love you_

_I didn't have to see if I could tear your world apart_

_And still win back your heart_

_No, I didn't have to leave you to love you_

_I loved you from the start_

* * *

You and Harry spent a couple of weeks travelling through the south of France for your honeymoon, and she was waiting for you when you returned. She told you now you could pick up where you left off, that your husbands didn't have to know. You refused, but she insisted. I became your confident again, and saw how hard you tried to be faithful to Harry, but she's not the brightest witch of her age for nothing, and sometimes your resolution faltered.

I met someone at your wedding, and we began a relationship. It was then when I understood what you had with Harry. It wasn't what you wished for, but somehow it was very comforting, and though strictly speaking they were second best, it didn't mean you or I put any less effort into making the relationship work. We got married about a year and a half after you did.

Your slip-ups only truly stopped after you had James. You said that now you had a family, and you'd do whatever it took to keep it together. And then came Rose, and Albus, and Lily, and Hugo, and at last the two of you managed to settle into a standard friendship.

I understood what you meant when you claimed you'd do anything for your children when I had my twins. They were the most perfect things in the world, and I'd protect them no matter the cost.

And yet, I wouldn't think twice to drop everything if you ever called me back.

* * *

_I didn't have to leave you to love you_


End file.
